Please, Believe Me
by AngieStilinski
Summary: Stiles only wanted his father to believe him. To give him a chance. But on his one chance, he didn't expect to be driving at a fast rate at, at least 80 mph. Especially when you're heading towards an intersection...
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I plan to. Will contain some trigger warnings so please don't hate me...**

* * *

><p>Stiles found it hard to sit still. Sitting on your butt for hours in the same spot in a jeep is not a great feeling. Especially when you have to wait for someone and you try your very best to stay awake at almost two in the morning.<p>

For a few seconds he would doze off and let his head fall to his chest; but it was only for a few seconds. He would constantly wake up again, alert, but after five minutes it would happen over and over again.

He would shake his head at his actions and groan, rubbing his temple with the palm of his hand. Stiles desperately tried to not think about the event that happened a couple hours ago at the hospital. The thought of it was like daggers piercing his heart. But he couldn't help it. Voices of the memory were in his head getting louder and louder.

"_I have seen a lot of things I can't explain in this town. It doesn't make them supernatural and it doesn't make them real. They just found another body. That's real. And that's the lead I'm following."_

"_Dad, she's going to die if you'll just listen-,"_

"_I have been listening, Stiles! I have _been_ listening!"_

"_You just don't believe. Mom would've believed me…"_

He thought back to when he was first introduced to the supernatural world when Scott was bit. Stiles promised he would never tell anyone's Scott's secret back about a year ago. But the anxiety feeling inside of him felt the urge to let it out. But he didn't. He's kept it away from people; especially his own father.

No matter how much he tried to tell him, he couldn't get any sense into him. Stiles sighed and looked over to the digital clock in his jeep. 1:58 am.

He still sat in his jeep in his driveway waiting for his dad to come home. He just wanted to explain it to him one more time.

It seemed like hours but was only about fifteen minutes when he saw a police cruiser pull into the driveway. Stiles' heartbeat sped up a couple beats as he slowly and hesitantly stepped out of the jeep.

The Sheriff took the longest to get out which Stiles found odd because he expected his father to climb out of the cruiser quickly with anger and rage. But Stiles was taken aback when he saw his father climb out unsteadily.

Stiles noticed the bottle of whiskey in John's hand. John clumsily slammed the door on the driver's side and gave a look of disgust at Stiles.

"Oh…It's you." He rasped in his wasted state.

Stiles shook his head as if he was trying to wake up from a bad dream. But it was real. It was all real.

"Dad?" Stiles spoke slowly and softly as he began to edge his way towards his father, reaching his hand to grab the bottle of whiskey from John. But however, John noticed his son's action and swiped his son's hand away roughly.

"Is that how you're supposed to greet me?" John said raged.

Stiles sighed through shaky breaths. "Dad…please. Why are-,"

"You know damn well why!" John yelled.

Stiles opened his mouth to speak, but John kept talking. "'Mom would've believed me?' Really, Stiles? How dare you bring your mother into that conversation!?"

"Dad, I wanted to talk to you but not like this…please just give me the bottle and we can go inside and-,"

"Don't you pity me, boy," John cut. "I don't need your empathy to me. I don't need to talk. I don't need anything more from you!"

Stiles had a lump in his throat and his eyes began to water. His conscious would scream at him not to say anything back to his father but he couldn't help it. "Why don't you believe me?"

Stiles was surprised at how weak and hurt his voice was but he kept his stance firm as he tried his best not to shake or tremble.

Stiles saw the hesitant glance in his father's eyes. John scoffed as if Stiles told a bad and offensive joke. But he didn't answer.

"Why don't you believe me?" Stiles repeated more firm.

The answer wasn't what he expected. His number one fear had come true. "Because you killed her."

Stiles froze. He couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks. He back-peddled slowly with eyes never leaving his father. But when he looked at him, John's wasted and raged face were gone. His expression was replaced with regret and remorse. "Stiles. I-I didn't mean…"

But Stiles was already walking to his jeep opening his car door and climbing in. Not even bothering to put his seatbelt on.

"Stiles!"

Stiles heard his father calling him but he couldn't look at him anymore. With a great amount of effort he blocked out the calls and yells and stomped on the gas, quickly driving out of the driveway.

He didn't know where he was going. He just wanted to get away from the man who had betrayed him. The man who he thought had loved him.

Tears drenched his cheeks as he kept on driving fast. He just hoped that no police officer would stop him and give him a speeding ticket. But he apparently spoke too soon when a police cruiser was driving about his speed and was driving by the driver side of his jeep.

He was confused at first when he saw no red and blue lights flashing. But when the police officer rolled down his window, he saw his father.

"Stiles, pull over so we can talk!" John yelled over the loud engines of the speeding vehicles. Stiles' window was closed but he could hear his father clearly with his yells.

Stiles didn't listen though as he stomped on the gas pedal harder making his jeep go slightly ahead of his dad's cruiser. But John easily caught up and was driving by his side again. _Stupid old jeep._ Stiles thought angrily. They were nearing an intersection now, but Stiles kept going.

"Stiles, please! I'm sorry!"

Stiles closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to block the voice out of his head. He looked over at his father to see his face was streamed with tears. It has been so long since he saw his father cry. And it was a rare thing. He hasn't seen his father cry since his mother died. Stiles was hesitant for a few short moments after the expression he saw on John's face.

But before Stiles could press on the brakes and pull his jeep over on the side of the road, he heard his father scream, "STILES, LOOK OUT!"

He turned his gaze to the right side of him and saw bright yellow lights coming towards him fast. The force of the coming light hit harshly against the side of the jeep. It was a hard impact and everything was dark after that.

John's scream was a little too late when he saw the other vehicle hit Stiles' jeep. He stood frozen in shock as he watched the jeep roll three times on the road. Several car parts screwed off and were splayed out on the road as the jeep made its final roll, landing on its back. "STILES!"

It's like it was all in slow motion. The vehicle which was a trailer truck however, kept on driving and swerved around the severely damaged jeep, as if it was meant to hit it on purpose.

John left the engine running and jumped out of the cruiser. He ran as fast as he could to reach the incident but it felt as if the smashed jeep only got farther away. Several other few cars that were driving by, screeched to a stop on the side of the road, clearly seeing the tragic incident.

One woman who was driving a silver Honda pulled out her phone and called out to John, "I'm calling an ambulance!"

John was too frantic to understand what she was saying or what others were saying when he finally reached his son's jeep. It was a horror looking scene.

Glass from the windows were shattered in small pieces on the road. The jeep had dents all over the vehicle. But he didn't need to peek inside the vehicle to find his son. Stiles was already out of the jeep, splayed out on the road and unmoving. He had numerous of scratched and bloody cuts all over his face and arms. But what John saw that stood out the most, was Stiles laying in a pool of his own blood.

He hiccupped a starting sob as he knelt down next to Stiles; bringing his shaky hands to his bloodied face, gently cupping it with his hands. There was so much blood. "St-Stiles?"

John slowly propped Stiles into a slouching sitting position, letting his son's head lean against his chest. His body was limp. Stiles' eyes were closed and his lips were slightly parted. There was a large gash near Stiles' hairline that most of the blood was coming from, which John suspected he must have hit his head too hard when the jeep rolled. He sobbed loudly as he suddenly began to hear sirens in the distance.

"I'm so sorry." John cried out over and over again.

The sirens were getting closer now, but John knew they were too late. John was too frantic to check Stiles' pulse. He looked down at his hands which were coated in his own son's blood. His cries were more like screams now as he held Stiles more tightly against his chest.

Several minutes past as the ambulance came into view screeching to a stop just a few feet from the wrecked jeep. Paramedics came sprinting out, rolling a stretcher along with them.

The next thing John knew was that two paramedics were taking Stiles out of his arms and setting him carefully on the stretcher. But John was still on his knees, frozen, and coated in Stiles' blood. He silently watched the paramedics rush the stretcher back towards the ambulance as another paramedic was helping him stand.

Everything was fuzzy. The sounds were deaf to him and he could only hear muffled sounds of the paramedic's voice asking if he was alright. But John didn't answer back.

However, the only voices and yells he could hear were coming from inside the ambulance.

"We've got a pulse but it's faint. We're losing him."

"Charge up the amplifiers!"

"Clear!"

Silence.

"Charge it again."

"Clear!"

More silence.

"Still nothing."

"Again!"

"But we-,"

"Again!"

There was a longer deafening silence that made John's heart drop.

"We've got a pulse. He's severely damaged but he's stable…for now."

* * *

><p><strong>Should I continue this?<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

It didn't take long for the ambulance to arrive at the ER, rolling the stretcher inside. The Sheriff who had gladly caught a ride with the ambulance, was hot on the paramedics' tail walking by the stretcher.

John's heart felt like it stuttered to a stop when he realized how pale and lifeless Stiles looked. He was still coated in his blood that looked like it was still fresh. He took Stiles' bloodied hand in his own, feeling the warm and sticky texture of the blood against his skin.

The doctors and nurses came running towards Stiles as they took over by pulling the stretcher throughout the ER. John still stayed by his side though. He wasn't going to leave Stiles. Not his son. He grasped Stiles' hand more firm when he realized the doctors were pushing the stretcher more quickly, rambling to one another of his injuries.

"Teenage male, seventeen. Suffering from severe limb injuries…"

John blocked the rest of it out. He felt as if part of his heart has been ripped out from him. He promised Claudia that he would keep Stiles safe. That he wouldn't let anything happen to him. But he failed.

"I-is he-he's gonna be okay right?" John stuttered out loudly, still traumatized by what was happening.

"We're going to do the best we can, Sheriff." One of the doctors replied.

"Is th-there anything I can do? Please. I-I can't leave him." He mumbled out quickly, not taking his gaze of Stiles. He more than regretted what he has done. _He_ was the one that got drunk. _He_ was the one for letting Stiles leave. The three words he had never meant to say. It was the whole reason for what was happening at this moment. The three words kept echoing in his head. _You killed her._

But Stiles didn't. He never did. It was the disease that took his mother's life. And it had come so unexpected.

"The best that you can do right now, Sheriff, is to wait in the waiting room." The doctor began. "I promise we'll do the best we-,"

"No! I won't leave him. Please. I promised her I wouldn't let anything happen to him! Just let me-,"

"John?" a new voice loud and desperate shouted from down the other end of the hall, cut him off. John turned toward the voice to see Melissa jogging her way towards him and the stretcher.

"John, what's going-," she cut off when she saw Stiles bloodied and unmoving. She stopped dead short for a moment then began walking at John's pace. Her hand covered over her mouth as she stared at Stiles in utter shock. "Oh my God."

John couldn't find the words to reply back. This was all his doing. That's when he felt hands holding him back as Stiles' hand slipped out of his. "No, no. Wait!"

He then turned to see Melissa holding him back as the doctors pushed the stretcher into the OR room. "Melissa, please. I can't lose him, I can't lose him…" John sobbed, crying into Melissa's shoulder. She didn't seem to mind the Sheriff's tears soaking her scrubs.

"John, they're going to do the best they can, alright?" Melissa soothed. Her eyes began to water when she saw how hurt John had looked. Stiles was like a son of her own. She can't lose him too.

TW-TW-TW-TW

It seemed like John has waited for hours. But it's only been forty-five minutes. Every second he'll grow impatient; waiting for news about Stiles. He wished he could go back and fix this. But he knows he can't. There's a lot of times he wished he could go back in time. Where Claudia was still alive, to stop the murders in Beacon Hills from happening, and saving Stiles or not saying the things he never meant to say.

He cried for at least every ten minutes; covering his face in his hands, elbows on his knees. He wouldn't dare sleep. Even if that whiskey had really did a number on him. That's when a flashback had come to him; of him and Stiles arguing over complete nonsense in the driveway. How hurt Stiles' face had looked when he said the three words. He wished he could kill himself for saying it. But he didn't want to kill himself…yet. Not when he needed to know if Stiles was still okay and that he's alive.

But there was something his son was trying to tell him. John regretted not ever listening to Stiles, no matter how many times Stiles would try to put sense into him. Something about supernatural creatures causing all the murders? He didn't know. He sighed tiredly. But he still refused to sleep.

He then felt a soft hand touch his shoulder. He looked up with a jolt to see Melissa standing over him, smiling sadly.

"Anything yet?" John asked hopefully. But his hopes were soon cut short when Melissa shook her head.

"He's still in the OR. They won't tell me anything until they're done." She replied while she sat slowly in a chair next to him.

She observed him, noticing the bags under his eyes and how red and wet his eyes and cheeks were. She sighed as she placed a hand on top of his. "Hey, he's going to be okay."

John shook his head doubtful. "I did this Melissa."

Melissa gave him a bewildered look, but she listened on further. "I was the reason Stiles got into that car."

She watched as more tears streamed down his cheeks, sniffling softly. "This is all my fault." Melissa's eyes narrowed; making lines on her forehead appear.

"What happened, John?" she asked quietly; making sure no one was around to hear while he explained to her. John was silent and hesitant.

"I-I…I told him that he killed his mother," he choked out. "I never meant to say it, I swear to God I didn't."

"Hey, hey, shhhh." She soothed while she rubbed her hand up and down his back.

"I've messed up, Mel. He was trying to tell me something but I didn't listen."

Melissa nodded her head in understanding as he finished the rest of the story. But John had left the drinking part out. She wanted to say something comforting, but there was really nothing to say. Except that Stiles was going to be okay. And she knew that for a fact.

"Mom?!"

Another voice rang out through the hospital. John and Melissa knew that voice. It was Scott. Melissa stood up as Scott came over to join them in the waiting room. Scott had a worried expression and tears streaming down his cheeks when he reached them.

"Scott-,"

"Mom, where's Stiles?" Scott cut her off.

"He's in the OR. How did you know?"

Scott looked over to the Sheriff for a short split second, before turning his gaze back to Melissa. "Lydia."

John narrowed his eyes. _Was Lydia at the accident? How could she possibly know about this?_ John thought. But he pushed the thoughts away as he listened on further.

"She…someone she knew from school, called her explaining about the accident. Then she called me."

John noticed the slight hesitation and quiver in his voice when he spoke. _Is he lying?_

"So I drove to the scene. And…and I saw the jeep…," Scott choked out as more tears streamed down his face. "Oh god, Mom. Please tell me he's gonna be okay. I-I can't lose my brother."

John's eyes watered again just by hearing Scott's broken voice. He then stood up and out of his chair, slowly making his way towards Scott and placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "He's gonna be….he'll be fine, Scott. You know Stiles. We both do."

Scott had a slight lump in his throat. But nodded in agreement as they both shared a tight, awkward embrace, standing in the middle of the hallway. They both cried in each other's arms with Scott's face buried into the Sheriff's shoulder on his uniform.

Then Scott froze his sniffling and crying, slightly shocked for a second. John noticed his unusual action and unlocked from their embrace, looking Scott in his eyes. But it wasn't what he'd expected. Scott's expression showed a mix of confusion and hatred.

"Scott, what is it?" John asked slightly desperate.

Scott was silent for a few seconds taking his gaze to the floor. "Sheriff…have you been drinking?"

John froze in uttered shock. He was at first speechless. "How…how did you-,"

"John?" Melissa interrupted, hearing what Scott had stated. "Is that true?"

John shook his head in disbelief. "I-I…I'm sorry," John then broke down. His knees buckled but Scott caught his fall and helped him stand again. "Sc-Scott? There's something you're not telling me," He stated quietly locking gazes with him.

"I don't know what you're-,"

"Scott." He interrupted, saying his name more firm. "Scott, please. Stiles was trying to tell me something but I didn't listen. And that is the reason why he is in that operating room right now! Please, Scott. Just tell me."

Scott hesitated for a long moment. "But-,"

"Please."

Scott sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He huffed in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't know what to do. He had promised Stiles back in Deaton's clinic back a few weeks ago that he didn't want him to tell his dad. He didn't want the Sheriff involved. Scott didn't blame him though. He had seen the reaction his mom had given him when she was introduced to the supernatural world. But by just seeing John's expression, made his stomach turn. There was really no other option. Not on this time of night. Not with Stiles like this.

"Okay," Scott muttered, knowing there was no other options. "But what I'm about to show you…you may not like the picture of it."

Sheriff Stilinski nodded in understanding. "I don't care. I just want to know."

Scott was hesitant. Melissa stood on the sidelines, giving him a short tempered glare, making lines appear on her forehead. She looked behind her to see if there wasn't anyone to see what Scott was going to show off. Seeing no one, her gaze turned back to her son and she gave him a nodding signal.

Scott huffed out a breath and sighed, locking gazes with John's. John was ready. He just wanted to know what all the fuss was about.

Then without any more signs of hesitation, Scott's eyes changed. John back peddled slightly at the unexpected action. Scott's eyes were yellow. But there was a slight chance that he just saw a hint of the color red. Then came the sharp nails growing on Scott's hands. Which John figured they were claws of some kind. John made a loud surprising gasp at the next thing he had just saw. Scott had opened his mouth wide to reveal growing sharp canine teeth.

John heart stopped. He was speechless. He backpedalled up until his met with the waiting room chair. He slowly plopped himself down with uttered disbelief.

Scott was back to himself in a flash when John had sat down. He slowly walked towards him, but John refused to give eye contact. His gaze was on the white, tiled floor.

"Sheriff?" Scott whispered out, trying to get him to look at him. But he still wouldn't meet his gaze.

Scott sighed. "I'm sorry. This must all seem like it's fake and that moment didn't happen but, the most important thing we need to worry about right now is Stiles. He's my brother and he's your son. We both need him."

John stayed silent. Melissa clamped her lips together, looking at John's expression. "I kind of reacted the same way you did, John. But Scott is right. Our main worry is Stiles. As a matter of fact, I'm going to go and check up on him." She replied while walking away in the direction towards the OR.

Scott positioned himself in a seat right beside John. _He'll get over it_, Scott thought, as he slouched slightly with his arms crossed against his chest. He had smelled the whiskey on John. It had made him wonder what had happened between him and Stiles. But he didn't ask. It wasn't the right time. Even when it urged him so much to find out what had really happened. He closed his eyes, hoping to sleep. It was at least 5:00 in the morning. A few hours of sleep wouldn't hurt him.

But just as he closed his eyes, John's voice unexpectedly whispered, "You have no idea how many things I want to ask you."

Scott opened his eyes slightly, his gaze turning to John with a slight smirk forming on his lips. "I'm counting on it."

Hours have passed as daylight finally peeked through. But it was then a quiet sob he had heard from not too far down the hospital hallway that disturbed him from his sleep. He knew that sob well. But he didn't need to point it out when Melissa had appeared from around the corner. Her eyes were puffy and tears drenched her cheeks.

John had noticed it too as he and Scott stood up walking towards Melissa. Well, it was more like a jog making a conclusion of the state she was in.

John spoke first. "Is he okay? Stiles is okay right?"

Melissa hesitated as she wiped her tears with the back of her hand. She looked over at John but stayed silent.

"Mom?" Scott cut in. This was Stiles they were talking about. He had to be okay.

She sighed and gave out a quiet sniffle. "They finished the operation," she stopped for a few seconds, wiping the remaining tears off her cheeks. "The doctor said the cuts and broken limbs will heal in time but…,"

"But?"

She started to sob again; clasping a hand over her mouth as more tears streamed down her cheeks. "There was one big wound that was the biggest concern. It was his head. There was a large gash near his hairline. T-they were able to stop the bleeding but when he was in the jeep when the truck contacted with it, he-he…..he took a pretty good hit to the head,"

John's world suddenly felt dizzy and his heart was in his throat. He knew what was coming next.

"They were able to put him in an induced coma. But….they don't know if he'll ever wake up."


	3. Chapter 3

The world felt dizzy. Scott couldn't help but show the same reaction as John had, by the news Melissa had just given them. Everything was a haze as Melissa led them down the white, blank empty hall of the hospital. Every step John took was a struggle.

His face was frozen as he slowly and unsteadily walked behind Melissa. Scott however, held a firm hand on his shoulder; supporting the weight on him. Scott didn't cry though. He was too traumatized and bewildered by what was happening at the moment. But he knew he was going to break down sooner or later. But he just didn't know when.

Melissa had her back faced against them, taking her steps slowly as well. But Scott could hear her silent sniffle and smell the salt from her tears still streaming down her face. She would look behind her to make sure they were still falling behind every ten seconds; to only see John trembling but Scott having a grip, supporting his stance. The scene before her was heartbreaking, but she kept moving.

After what seemed like an eternity, they had finally reached the closed door of Stiles' room. Melissa shakily brought her hand on the metal door-handle, turning her gaze to John and Scott before opening it.

As Melissa opened the door ever so slightly, John could already hear the beeping of the monitors that were coming from Stiles' room. He had let Melissa and Scott go in first. He took deep breaths and hesitated before he stepped in to be met with his son that was so unrecognizable. He couldn't help the urgent gasp escaping from his lips as he examined him.

Stiles was extremely pale. His arms were covered in bandages and a few scratches turning into scars appeared on his son's face. There was a big white bandage that was near his hairline that John suspected was what the doctors were talking about when Stiles had hit his head pretty hard. Stiles had a breathing tube in his mouth; his chest would rise and fall when oxygen was pumped into the tube. John obviously stated that Stiles couldn't breathe on his own which he suddenly felt all the regret coming back to him.

He stood frozen in the doorway, never taking his eyes off Stiles. He let the tears stream down his face, feeling it was his fault all over again.

Scott had a lump in his throat when he saw Stiles. He couldn't recognize him at first when he walked in. He slowly walked to the side of Stiles bed to examine him more. It brought tears in his eyes when he could no longer see the hyperactive best friend beyond all the wounds and bandages covering him.

He hesitantly brought his hand to Stiles' forearm and gently grabbed it. He gasped at how limp Stiles felt in his hand. He finally could no longer keep the tears from coming. He then attempted to take his pain away. But he couldn't find the pain. He slightly panicked but kept it to himself. He didn't want to worry the Sheriff even more.

Scott then heard loud, hesitant cries and gasps that made him turn his gaze towards John. John had numerous of tears streaming down his face as he shook his head violently. "I-I'm sorry," he choked out, bringing a hand to wipe some of his tears away. "I can't do this. I-I can't be in here."

Scott's eyes narrowed as John's unexpected words. But before anyone could reply back, John was already walking out of the room.

"John?" Melissa called out as Scott watched the Sheriff disappear out of the room in disbelief. "John!" But the Sheriff didn't listen and he didn't come back in.

Melissa sighed bringing her gaze to her son. "I'll be right back." She said softly as she exited the room following John's footsteps.

TW-TW-TW-TW

Melissa followed John who was walking at a fast pace down the white, empty hallway. His back was faced towards her but she knew he could hear her calls. She gladly caught up with him as she stood in front of him, blocking his path.

"John, what-,"

"I can't be in there, Mel." John stated firmly, trying to keep the tears in. Melissa's eyes narrowed, taking in a small sigh. "I can't be with him knowing that _I_ was the cause of what happened. _I _am the reason he is in that hospital bed. What if he wakes up, huh? What if he wakes up and sees that I'm there with him? What will he say? What will he think? I-I just can't take that risk."

Melissa shook her head in disagreement. "Don't you think that, John. Don't you dare think that," she replied in a disappointing tone. "I'm sure that when Stiles wakes up, he'll be glad that you're there. To know that no matter what, you're always there for him. But walking away doesn't prove anything, John. You said that you didn't want to leave him. Well then what are you doing now, huh?"

She hadn't meant for it to come out so harsh. But it was the truth. John was silent for a few moments after that. He slowly turned his head in the direction of where Stiles' room was and then back to towards Melissa. She had hoped that she had finally knocked some sense into him, but she then thought wrong. "I just need some time, okay?"

Melissa scoffed quietly at John's reply, but before she could say something else, he was already walking around her and towards the exit of the hospital doors. She called out to him, but of course John didn't listen as she watched him leave the hospital.

TW-TW-TW-TW

Scott slowly sat himself into the chair near the armrest of Stiles' bed. He couldn't help but listen into the conversation going on with his mom and the Sheriff thanks to his werewolf hearing. But he also regrets for eaves-dropping like that. He silently growled angrily when he heard John leave through the hospital doors. He couldn't believe what was happening but just by looking at Stiles' dysfunctional form, it took his mind off of it.

Stiles was extremely pale. IV's were hooked to his arms and hands. The breathing tube made Scott grow sick as he watched the oxygen being pumped into it and Stiles' chest rising and falling each time it pumped air into his mouth. He had a cast on his right arm, but Scott could scent a lot more broken limbs that were bandaged and covered underneath the hospital blanket that covered Stiles up to his waist.

The beeping of the heart rate monitor gave him a headache as he watched the green line on the black screen constantly rise up and down. He had a lump in his throat as his eyes suddenly began to water. If Stiles was awake right now, Scott could imagine him rambling off jokes to lighten up the mood even in his bad condition. But Scott didn't know when Stiles would wake up. No one did. Or _if_ he would wake up.

He violently shook his head, angry at himself for thinking of such a stupid thought. He gently grabbed Stiles wrist to see if there was any pain. But Scott didn't find any. He let the tears stream down his face at how there was no pain. Stiles' skin was cold and lifeless looking.

Scott couldn't take any more of the heartbreaking silence and finally let himself speak. "Hey, Stiles." He began as he held back in a few tears. "You know…I usually expected something supernatural would put you in a condition like this." He made a slight joke but there was no one around to laugh. Scott didn't even laugh at his own joke. It wasn't the right time.

"I don't know what I'll do now, without you," Scott sniffled, wiping a few tears away. "You're always the guy that figures things out. You're always the one with a plan b.

"You were _always_ there for me Stiles…you never left my side even if I knew things would be too dangerous for you.

"I-I don't think I can be Batman without my Robin." Scott let more tears stream down his face, never taking his eyes of Stiles.

"I-I remember that night at the motel. You told me that we were brothers and that if I'd die, you'll have to die with me

"Well now I'm going to say the same thing to you. So don't you dare let go, do you hear me? You have to stay. You can fight it. I know you can. So don't give up, okay? If you die, then I'm going to have to go with you."

Scott finally had broken down. He knew it was coming. He softly laid his hand on Stiles' arm as he looked down at the white tiled floor. The tears were blurring his vision, but he didn't have the strength to wipe them away. He was desperate for Stiles to wake up already. But it may be a very long time until he does.

"Scott?"

A soft voice made Scott jolt his head upwards, his gaze turning towards the door of the room. Lydia stood there as he saw a few tears stream down her face. But her eyes were on Stiles as she brought her hand up to her mouth with a look of hurt and disbelief on her face.

Lydia's makeup was smeared from all the crying and her hair was sticking up in a sloppy ponytail; which Scott thinks she was rushing out of the door when she heard about Stiles. She hesitantly made her way towards the foot of Stiles' bed, examining him closer.

She gasped at how Stiles had looked, but then looked away. The sight was too much for her. She then brought her eyes to Scott as they both shared each others' looks and sorrow.

"H-he'll be okay right? Scott?" she whispered out traumatized. Scott took another glance at Stiles. He didn't want to say it and make the banshee more worried. But there was no other way to answer.

"I don't know."


	4. Chapter 4

Scott was exhausted. Every day he would come to see Stiles; and Lydia would do the same. It has been a week in the aftermath of the accident but Stiles never seemed to get any better. The whole pack had come a few hours after they heard the news about Stiles from the past week.

But the crowd in the hospital had started to slow down a little when they realized how bad Stiles' condition was. But the Sheriff hasn't come in to see Stiles yet.

John would walk into the hospital to talk to his mom and ask how Stiles was doing; then he'd leave again. It was every day in the past week that Stiles' room would feel empty. Only Scott and Lydia would see him the most. The routine would go non-stop.

Scott can't remember the last time he's actually slept. Thanks to his werewolf abilities, the energy from his wolf would keep him awake. But at times he would regret it as exhaustion keeps on taking over him. Lydia slept uncomfortably, afraid that every night that when she goes to sleep, she might scream for Stiles. Stiles who still had the breathing tube in his mouth.

The cuts were starting to heal on Stiles. Scott noticed it. But it was healing slowly and he desperately wished he could heal quickly like werewolves.

The heart monitor and its constant beeps were getting annoying. The loud sound rang in his ears which gave him a headache. Scott groaned in frustration and exhaustion.

His groan was a little too loud when Lydia, who was sleeping in a chair on the other side of Stiles' bed, woke up slowly.

She shifted slightly into a sitting position, glancing her gaze towards Stiles then to Scott.

Scott had honestly never seen Lydia so exhausted. Bags were under her eyes and her hair was frizzy. Her makeup was smeared on one eye when she was leaning her head against it, sleeping.

Scott sighed as he suddenly felt regretful. "Sorry."

Lydia shook her head in understanding, mouthing an 'It's okay' in reply. Her gaze then fell to Stiles who hasn't changed much. Lydia wished she wasn't a banshee at times. To scream every time she sensed a death.

"You know, sometimes when I wake up, I always hope that all of this is a dream," Lydia said not taking her eyes off of Stiles. "I guess I just had to face the hard-cold-truth."

Scott nodded but didn't reply. The pain in his heart suddenly coming back. He had to agree with her. He really did wish it was a dream and really wished that Stiles wasn't in the hospital and that he was up and healthy. But he wasn't. He didn't know if Stiles was going to be okay. No one did. Heck, even the doctors didn't know.

"Before I called you," Lydia continued, "I screamed."

Scott looked at her then. But Lydia still refused to look at him. Her eyes never left his brother.

"I-I screamed, Scott. I screamed when that truck hit Stiles' jeep. It's like I was there in the car with him," Lydia's eyes were beginning to water as she moved her hand to grasp Stiles' limp and pale hand. "He was _dead_, Scott."

Scott felt the tears burn in his eyes as Lydia explained further. "He was dead. I thought he was gone." Lydia started to sob now as she squeezed Stiles' hand slightly. "It's like I was in a dream I couldn't get out of."

Scott felt a lump in his throat when he imagined what the scene must have looked like. He felt pity for Sheriff Stilinski now; to have to watch the whole thing when the truck hit Stiles' jeep. After John had left the hospital, his mom had told him the whole story of what he had told her before he arrived when Stiles was in the OR. He broke down after she had finished explaining.

Stiles was trying to get his dad to believe him. But he had to be the one to get hurt both mentally and physically. If only his father had the courage to come and see Stiles.

Scott had showed his werewolf form to him, but he didn't really know how it had affected John entirely. He could understand that John took the blame on himself for what had happened; but he only wanted to see Stiles' father spend time with his best friend, even if he wasn't awake.

"I know." Scott finally managed to reply after a few moments of silence. "I'm sorry you had to go through that." Lydia closed her eyes as she let a few tears fall but she still held on to Stiles' hand.

"I-I should have gone to him sooner." Lydia shuttered out, her bottom lip quivering.

Scott's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What?"

"I should have gone to him. I should have been with him. But I went with Jackson and-,"

"Hey, hey," Scott cut her off as he got up from his chair, making his way towards her. She stood up following his footsteps as they embraced each other. Lydia cried quietly in Scott's shoulder as Scott rubbed circles on her back soothingly. "Don't blame yourself, Lydia. It's not your fault. None of this is your fault."

She sniffled lifting her head up to look at Stiles. "Then why do I feel so guilty?"

Scott couldn't find anything to say to her after that. He even felt guilty when it wasn't his fault either. But they couldn't change the past even if they desperately wanted to.

They still stood embracing each other as they blamed themselves even more. Scott just wanted Stiles to wake up. To wake up and get to say 'I'm alive'. But he knew it probably wouldn't happen in a very long time.

TW-TW-TW-TW

Melissa would check up on Stiles every now and again to check on his vitals and also on Scott and Lydia. They refused to leave him until visiting hours would be over. She cried for two days straight for Stiles. Stiles was like a second son to her. He was always there for Scott when she would take the night shift and when Scott's father left.

But to see Stiles laying in that hospital bed, she was heartbroken. She was there that night when Stiles mother had passed away. Stiles had saw the whole thing when she flat-lined. But his father wasn't there.

After that, John and Stiles had hated hospitals. She couldn't blame them. Her job sometimes frustrated her every time they would lose somebody.

Stiles didn't deserve to be in the hospital bed. He's only seventeen. He should have been-

Her thoughts were interrupted when she saw John walk through the hospital emergency entrance. She fast walked towards him but John walked incredibly slow. But when she reached him his expression wasn't filled with regret and worry. It was filled with anger and hatred.

Before she got to ask what was wrong, John spoke first, "I've been looking everywhere for this guy! We've still got nothing." He spat, rubbing the back of his head roughly.

"Who, John?"

"The sick bastard that hit Stiles' jeep!" he screamed. Melissa knew he wasn't screaming at her. But she still jumped in surprise by his sudden outburst. It was so loud, nurses and doctors stopped short looking in his direction.

Melissa sighed placing her hand on her hips. "John, when was the last time you slept?"

"I'm not ever gonna sleep 'til I catch this guy." He replied slightly calmer but still firm.

She placed a soft touching hand on his shoulder. "John, you need rest. You're exhausted. And I don't see that just because I'm a nurse."

John sighed as he rubbed his hand down his face. "But-,"

"John." Melissa stated firmly as lines on her forehead appeared. "Come on," she urged taking his arm and leading him towards the waiting room chairs. "Why don't you go and sit down."

John hesitated before making his way over to the first chair he saw, but before he could sit down, Melissa spoke with a soft tone, "Or better yet…why don't you go and see your son."

John stopped short, closing his eyes. He sighed before plopping down on the chair roughly, with extreme exhaustion. "Melissa, I-,"

"Don't you make another excuse, John," Melissa said as she stood in front of him. "It's been a whole week and not once have you went in to see Stiles. Heck, you never even gotten any quick glance at him."

John stayed silent for a few short moments then, "How is he?"

Melissa folded her arms and shrugged. "Why don't you go and see for yourself."

"I can't do that…"

"Why the hell not?!"

"BECAUSE IF I GO IN THERE, ALL I SEE IS CLAUDIA, ALRIGHT!?" he screamed, finally letting all steam out.

Melissa suddenly felt guilty for being so harsh on him. But she was speechless. He spoke for her.

"Every time I step into the hospital, I see Claudia's death. And how I wasn't there when she passed. How I wasn't there…for Stiles." The last two words hit him with realization. When he came into the hospital minutes after Claudia had passed, he saw Stiles sobbing in the hallway. He had witnessed her death and John wasn't there with him when it happened.

"You can't always fix your mistakes, John. But you can still redeem yourself." Melissa whispered before walking away.

John watched her go, but he didn't need to call out for her. He knew what he had to do.

He slowly and hesitantly made his way to Stiles' room. _Why have I never seen any of this sooner?_ John thought as he fought back tears. When he reached the door to his room, he stopped short and hesitated, placing his hand on the cold, metal door-handle.

_I'm so sorry, Stiles. I promise that I will never leave you again._ He thought as he turned the handle, pushing the door open.


	5. Chapter 5

As John entered the room, he began to feel nauseous and the world around him had suddenly began to get dizzy. The loud ruckus of the heart monitors had terrified him. He was suddenly back in the room with Claudia in the bed.

John blinked a few times to make sure it wasn't real; but the image of Claudia began to fade as Stiles was replaced with it.

"Sheriff?"

John jolted his head to the direction of the noise to see Scott and Lydia standing at the foot of Stiles' bed. He hadn't realized they were there when he first got in. He was too traumatized.

"Hey, kids." John greeted them trying the best he could to hide the slight quiver in his voice. When he examined his son, he couldn't move. It was as if his feet were glued to the floor, but he never took his eyes off him.

"Why don't you two go on home and get some rest." John said turning to look over at them. "You both look exhausted."

Scott and Lydia both exchanged glances at Stiles for a few more seconds, then they slowly and quietly made their way out of the room, softly closing the door behind them.

John sighed when he realized that he was finally alone in the room with his comatose son. Though, he didn't make his way to Stiles' son in a fast-paced matter. Instead, he walked incredibly slow to reach the side of Stiles bed.

The bandage on his hairline was off, but there was a huge scar that took its place. His right arm was still in a cast and there were still a few cuts covering his arms and a little on his face. The breathing tube was still on him.

John had noticed a little less bloodied cuts anymore from the last time he' seen him. He hated himself for just walking out like that. He hated himself for _everything_. He would slowly inch is way to sit in the chair by Stiles' bed never losing a glance at him. The world suddenly began to feel dizzy again when he finally managed to sit himself down.

He breathed out heavy breathes as if he was in a panic attack of his own. Just looking at Stiles made him think of Claudia. He looked just like her. He had her golden brown eyes and her brown hair. But John feared he may never see his son open his eyes again to show how much he looked like his mother. And to just see him in the hospital bed, reminded him of her even more.

John rubbed his hand down his face with exhaustion and began to bounce his leg up and down off the floor in nervousness. He took his time to watch the green line on the heart monitor rise up and down slowly. He did the best few minutes to find something to distract himself from looking at Stiles.

But he found those minutes incredibly difficult. He hated the awkward silence as he hesitantly brought his hand to touch the top of Stiles' head rubbing his hair back which was sticking to his forehead. He finally found the words to speak, never taking his hand off Stiles' head.

"I'm so sorry, Stiles." He choked out starting a slight sob. Tears burned his eyes and he would try his best not to let them fall.

"I'm sorry for everything. I-I shouldn't have said those things," the flashback would come back to him over and over again of their argument in the drive way. Every night for the past week after the accident, he would have nightmares of when the truck had hit Stiles' jeep. The same nightmare would repeat itself over and over again, making John not wanting to sleep for two days now.

"I should've believed you." He whispered out, letting tears fall. He reached for Stiles hand now, gently squeezing it. The IV was hooked to it making his hand show less skin. When Scott had shown John his "werewolf" form or whatever those teenagers called it, it made him more furious with himself. Stiles had tried to tell him about the supernatural creatures causing most of the murders in Beacon Hills. But John had refused to believe him. He only believed him when it was already too late to apologize and get to hug his own son to tell him that everything was going to be okay. But John didn't know that. He didn't know anything anymore. He couldn't think straight.

"Wake up, Stiles. Please," he sobbed harder now, squeezing Stiles' hand more tighter. "You have to wake up." He would repeat it over and over again.

"Don't leave me. Y-You can't leave. Not you too," John's greatest fear was to be left alone with no one left to be with. After Claudia had died, he tried his best to keep Stiles safe. To never leave his son. But he failed.

Several minutes have passed and John had managed to stop crying. But he refused to leave. He promised that he would never leave Stiles again. So instead, he would talk about the memories he had with him a few years back.

"I remember that time you saw me crying one day about a week after your mom's death. You told me that you would never leave me unless I promised I would never leave you." The memory had brought tears to his eyes every time he would think about it. "But I haven't left yet, so you better not leave me, do you understand?"

"It's gonna be okay though." John reassured. But he didn't know exactly who he was talking to.

TW-TW-TW-TW

"Do you want me to drive?" Lydia had asked as they left the hospital entrance. The sun was starting to set as the moon would begin to rise on the horizon. Scott was too distraught to be thinking straight since the accident; and he didn't really want to leave.

"Uh, yeah. That'll be good I guess." Scott replied tiredly as they made their way to Lydia's car. Scott had too many things on his mind. But he was glad to see the Sheriff arrive to finally see Stiles.

"Do you think Stiles will be okay?" Scott slightly chuckled at that when he and Lydia had gotten into the car. But Lydia didn't laugh with him.

"Lydia, I'm sure he'll be fine. Why?"

Lydia didn't make contact with him. She only stared out of the window, staring into space. "I don't know. I just…I feel like something bad is going to happen."

Scott couldn't answer to her after that as Lydia started the engine to her car and began to pull out of the parking space slowly and hesitantly.

TW-TW-TW-TW

John had finally finished talking to Stiles about the memories they had. But he still didn't leave. He had a feeling he wouldn't for a while. His eyes began to droop close with exhaustion and his hand that was holding Stiles' hand grew limp.

_John opened his eyes slowly to be met with a turned on fan hanging on the ceiling above him. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion when he had recognized the fan. He had woke up in his room and he didn't remember how he got there. Daylight peeked through the curtains as John sat up with a jolt._

_He looked around confused and hoped he didn't have some kind of hangover. He hadn't remembered leaving the hospital last night which got him worrying. Then one name made him jump up with anticipation; Stiles. He quickly got up from the bed to get on his shoes until he realized he already had them on. He then noticed that he was still in his uniform and didn't change through the night._

_But even as daylight was filling his bedroom, his surroundings seemed a little too bright. It made him wonder if he's going crazy at all. But he doubted that, even when-_

"_Dad?"_

_John's thoughts stopped dead short when a soft and familiar voice was sounded behind him. He stood frozen in shock for a few seconds before he slowly turned around to make sure he wasn't hallucinating or anything. But there stood his son at the bedroom door. His skin was back to normal color and no longer a pale. He wasn't showing any signs of fatal injuries on him and he was wearing his usual casual wear before the accident had happened. It was his son. And he looked completely fine. John shifted slightly, overweighed with the amount of disbelief from the person standing in front of him._

"_Stiles?"_

_Without thinking twice, John ran up to Stiles and embraced him tightly, putting his hand atop his son's head. Tears of joy and slight confusion streamed down his cheeks as Stiles hugged him tightly back. He digged his face into the Sheriff's shoulder as his eyes began to water._

"_Is it really you?" John whimpered out never unlocking from their embrace. Stiles let out a small laugh, trying to lighten up the mood. "I'm not sure. It think so…"_

_John suddenly realized it and sighed as he felt stupidity take him over. They unlocked from their embrace so that John could look at the golden brown eyes that were so familiar. "I'm dreaming aren't I?"_

_Stiles hesitated then slowly nodded his head. "Yeah," he answered rubbing the back of his head. "The truth hurts doesn't it?" It was supposed to be a joke, but neither of them laughed._

_John shook his head suddenly remembering the accident. "Stiles, I-,"_

"_Dad," Stiles cut him off locking his gaze, narrowing his eyes in concern. "Stop blaming yourself, alright. I already heard the things you said….and what Scott and Lydia said."_

_John stood dumbfounded for a few seconds. He was still traumatized at what was happening at the moment. "You can hear us talking to you?"_

"_I can hear everything you guys say. I just wish I could talk to you guys back, but we all know that won't happen for a while. Or if it will ever happen-,"_

"_Don't." John stated firmly. He never liked his son to be negative. Especially in situations like this. Especially when he believed it was his fault. Not Stiles'. "Don't talk like that."_

_Stiles scoffed quietly. "Then how should I talk?"_

_John couldn't answer. He realized how much thinking had hurt. He pinched the bridge of his nose when he felt a small migraine coming. "Stiles, I should've believed you." _

_Stiles opened his mouth and was about to reply back, but John cut him off, "Scott, showed me everything."_

_Stiles raised his eyebrows in utter amazement. John felt like smiling at that because he had missed Stiles trying to lighten up his mood every day when he would come home from work. "So…Scott showed you…everything?" he deadpanned, crossing his arms._

_John breathed out a forced laugh and nodded. "Honestly, I was quite shocked. But Stiles…I am so sorry."_

_Stiles listened further, not really having much to say._

"_It was my fault that you're hurt. I-I should've listened and-," _

_Stiles moved in to hug him to cut him off. But what John had found strange was that Stiles was hugging him incredibly tighter. It was like he was expecting something to happen, "Don't blame yourself, Dad. It will only make things worse." John put a soft kiss to his head as tears blurred his vision. "I love you, you know that right?"_

_John nodded unable to find words. "You have to wake up Stiles. Please. I don't want to be alone. I can't lose you too."_

_Stiles was crying now, refusing to give his father eye contact. He only kept burying his head into his father's shoulder, soaking John's uniform with his tears. "I don't know how…"_

"_I know you can Stiles. Because I believe, okay. I believe in you."_

"_Then you keep on believing, okay? Do the best you can to keep on going no matter what happens."_

"_Stiles, w-why are you saying this?" John unlocked from their embrace again to look into Stiles' eyes. But Stiles never looked at him. His gaze was at the floor and by that expression, John knew he wasn't telling him something._

"_Dad…," There was suddenly a lace of panic written across Stiles' face. He finally brought his gaze to him as a single tear streamed down his cheek. "Dad, something's happening…"_

_Before John got the chance to ask, he felt as if hands were pulling him away from his son. He yelled and flailed by the unexpected force that was separating him from Stiles. His hands slipped from Stiles' and was pulled back to reality._

John woke up with a jolt to be met with the smells of sanitary in his surroundings and the beeps of the heart rate monitors. But John's heart stopped when the heart rate monitor sounded unusual like it was supposed to be. It sounded flat.

John sprang up from his chair and stood over the comatose Stiles with panicked gasps and a skipping heartbeat. "Stiles…NO!"

TW-TW-TW-TW

Lydia gasped loudly with a shrieking voice and stomped on the brakes of her car hard. The brakes made Scott lurch forward slightly then back against the seat with a bewildered glance at the strawberry blonde.

"Lydia, what's wrong?"

Lydia was hyperventilating loudly to answer. Instead, she set her car in reverse and stomped on the gas making a swerve to turn around. Her voice was only a whisper when she replied, but she was sure that Scott heard it. "Stiles…"

TW-TW-TW-TW

John was yelling in bloody murder of Stiles' name over and over again when he saw the green line on the heart monitor go flat and make that everlasting, deafening noise of the outranged beep.

The nurses and doctors must have heard cleary as a swarm of them came rushing in. Melissa was one of them. She cried out when she saw the scene before her and began to order the nurses to charge a round of epi and to get the chargers set.

John blocked out all of the hospital language and clasped his hand on Stiles forehead, sobbing loudly. It was a nightmare he had always feared. And it was coming true.

It was then he felt hands pulling him away from Stiles yet again. But his time he didn't have the strength to fight back. A nurse pulled him into the doorway that led into the room as he watched Melissa grab the paddles.

TW-TW-TW-TW

Lydia was drenched in tears as she was speeding down the road that led to the hospital. Scott was trying to talk to her, but she blocked him out. She was listening to the scene unfolding in Stiles' room. The sound of the electricity from the paddles was deafening. Every time she heard the paddles contact with Stiles' chest she jumped slightly as if she was the victim.

But she refused to scream.

TW-TW-TW-TW

"Come on!" Melissa screamed as she connected the paddles to Stiles' chest. John watched in horror as Stiles' body lurched upwards then back down in a quick motion. "Come on, Stiles! Don't do this!"

One of the other nurses started doing compressions on Stiles but the others stood aside to watch to the scene unfold before them. They were giving up.

Melissa placed the paddles on Stiles over and over again. John began to lose count. He felt weak and continued to sob. He prayed to whoever was listening, to let Stiles have a second chance. But the outlooks weren't good.

"Claire, charge another round of epi!" she shouted to one of the nurses as she took over doing compressions on Stiles. But none moved. "Someone do _something_!"

"Melissa, he's-,"

"NO!" she screamed as she continued to work on Stiles. "I won't let that happen! I can't let that happen."

She's been doing it for minutes now and there was still nothing. She was crying now as she made eye contact with John, who gave her a knowing look.

"I'm so sorry."

TW-TW-TW-TW

Lydia came to a screeching stop in the front of the hospital emergency entrance. She left her car running as she and Scott jumped out of the car, running into the hospital entrance. When Lydia had stopped her car, she heard no more voices. She panicked reputedly as thoughts went through her mind. _Please, please, please_.

But when they reached Stiles room, they stopped dead short. They didn't need to go in. They _knew_. The Sheriff was there to prove it.

He was on his knees screaming and cursing and crying extremely loud. He was screaming Stiles' name over and over again.

Scott was frozen. He couldn't move as he was shaking his head in disbelief. "No, no he's not dead. He can't be…" he whimpered as a single tear streamed down his cheek.

Lydia wasn't frozen, though. She rushed hurriedly towards the window that showed the inside of Stiles' room and she cringed. The sight before her seemed so unrealistic, but she knew it was true. She clasped her hand of her mouth and broke down.

Scott was behind her in a second, wrapping her in a tight embrace. He sobbed then, as he looked in the window. Stiles was pale and lifeless as the deafening beep of the heart monitor made him grow sick. He saw his mom on her knees with her hands covering her face. One of the doctors were trying to help her stand but she refused bitterly and remained on the floor.

The Sheriff's cries were the worst. Scott could understand why. No parent should have to bury their child. He was all he had left.

He remained speechless. Lydia sobbed loudly barely matching the Sheriff's cries. "I-I don't understand," she choked lifting her head off of Scott's shoulder. "I didn't scream."

Realization hit her then. Her eyes narrowed and her tears had stopped coming. "I didn't scream."

Unexpectedly, she rushed out of Scott's embrace and sprinted into the room, pushing past the other nurses and doctors. She was immediately by Stiles' lifeless form gently cupping his pale face in her hands.

"Stiles!" she yelled. And then she screamed.

She screamed so loud, everyone around her had to cover their ears. And both she and Scott knew that that was her loudest banshee scream ever made.

Bu she screamed for a long amount of time until Stiles' body lurched upwards. The heart monitor began to show a green line of small hills. Lydia blinked in surprise and kissed Stiles forehead with joy. He was alive. She had brought him back.


	6. Chapter 6

The doctors stood extremely dumbfounded at the sidelines by what they have just witnessed. Melissa stood up quickly from her kneeling position as she examined Stiles breathing form from afar. She pressed her hand to a bearable touch on her lips in utter shock; too frozen to say a word or even move.

Lydia was crying in tears of joy, gently pushing Stiles' hair back that was sticking to his fore head from the sweat. She tangled her fingers into his limp hand and brought it to up to her chin, closing her eyes; praying a simple 'thank you' to whoever was listening. Somehow she just managed to block out the heart monitor and only listen to the sweet sound of Stiles breathing on his own. The nurses and doctors stood wavering slightly as they watch the scene unfold before them.

Lydia turned her head quickly towards the direction of where the doctors stood, her expression of pure joy and triumph were gone for a few moments. "What are you guys waiting for? Do something."

Melissa was the first to react as she was by Stiles' side instantly. One of the nurses named Claire, checked his vitals which Melissa was too motionless to do so. She was so glad to say something good come out of her mouth when it was expected to be something completely different.

"His vitals are normal. He-he's gonna be okay…"

Scott sighed in relief through shaky breaths and wiped his tears away with his sleeve from what he had observed from the window. He and Stiles had been through everything together. They were brothers. Losing him will be like losing a big chunk of his heart. He brought his gaze to the Sheriff which had ended up being a blur to his eyes when he saw John rush past the doctors and was by Stiles' side in what seemed to be less than a second.

John brought his hand to grab onto his son's hoping he never had to let go ever again.

TW-TW-TW-TW

They were all in the waiting room, except with a more confused expression than a worried one. Lydia stared into nothing as her eyes drifted somewhere to looking at her lap with her hands shuffling around slightly. The memory of what she did kept on replaying in her head. She had overheard one of the doctors saying that one of their ears were bleeding, which Lydia had already known that she was the cause of it. She had brought Stiles back. But she just didn't know how it was possible.

Scott would look his way towards Lydia once every two minutes, obviously dumbfounded himself from what he had just witnessed. But Lydia never left her gaze from her lap; simply her new addiction now.

John found the supernatural occurrences quite odd when he had just learned about it from this past week. The 'banshee' thing he wasn't aware of just of yet. So, he simply ended the deafening silence.

"Would someone like to tell me what the hell happened back there?" his voice was slightly firm but not harshly said. He leaned back in the chair with his arms crossed, looking directly at Lydia when he spoke.

Lydia was just as confused as he was. Nothing like that had happened before with her banshee abilities. She was still trying to figure them out. But it just seemed harder every day. Scott had looked over to Lydia too hoping for an answer. It was Lydia's loudest banshee scream she ever made. He didn't expect the loudest banshee scream to ever be helpful.

"What?" Lydia deadpanned, once she looked up, noticing that they were both looking at her when the Sheriff asked the question. "How should I know? I'm just as confused as you are."

Scott sighed in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wished his questions or assumptions could be answered right then and now. "Well, you are the banshee…"

"And do I really need to explain the traumas I have while having this supernatural occurrence?" Lydia witted in her usual own sense of sarcasm. "I've only been a banshee for a year! Why don't you scream every time you sense someone's going to die-,"

"Okay," John cut her off with a slight annoyed and firm tone. He wasn't in the mood to be listening to teenagers argue at the moment. He had witnessed Stiles dying in front of him. Claudia's death he never witnessed. It had been Stiles who watched her flat-line. "From what I've noticed, not one clue of us in this hospital have no idea what happened. And I should know. Even if I'm still new to this supernatural business you kids have been talking about…but I have to ask, do any of you know someone who would?"

John had usually thought that the innocent teens would have said a simple 'no' or be thinking for a long period of time. But to his surprise, Scott answered in less than five seconds. "Deaton," Scott replied as he locked gazes with the Sheriff. He wanted to expect a simple nod of agreement, but then quickly realized that the Sheriff didn't exactly know _everything_ yet.

"The veterinarian?" John asked incredulously, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. "What does a simple citizen like him have anything to do with this?"

Scott sighed looking his way towards Lydia who shared with him a knowing look, quickly answering for him. "It's a long story…"

"Of course it is." John deadpanned, leaning back roughly in the waiting chair.

"He may know what happened and how Lydia brought Stiles back."

"But…you know what? I'm not even going to ask."

While John had said his last comment, Lydia was already fishing in her purse for her phone. "I'll call him over. He has to know something." She said once she felt her hand touch the familiar material and pulled her phone out.

"Yeah, you do that." John said as he gave out a breathless sigh. "I think I need a coffee."

TW-TW-TW-TW

About thirty minutes after Lydia made the call, Deaton arrived in the hospital emergency entrance, walking in an incredibly fast pace. When Lydia was speaking to him over the phone and told him about how she had brought Stiles back to the living by using her banshee scream, he was quite confused and slightly concerned. He's never heard anything like this happen before in the supernatural occurrences.

Scott was the first to spot him heading towards them. He stood up quickly from his chair as Lydia followed in suit. John however took his time to stand up on both of his legs. He never expected a veterinarian to know so well about the supernatural. Before Deaton arrived, Scott told him that he was the Hale pack's emissary, which of course, John had no idea what that meant. But just by looking at Deaton when he came in, made him feel like he could trust him.

"Deaton." Scott greeted with a slight nod of his head. Deaton replied back, copying the same motion. His eyes drifted to Scott then Lydia and then the Sheriff. However, his gaze stayed on John for a few seconds longer with an unsure glance.

Scott answered his confusion, "It's okay. He already knows. Well…kind of." Once Scott said this, Deaton's eyes softened and nodded in compliance. "Nice to have someone join the knowing of the supernatural." Deaton said slightly smirking. John only nodded in a reply, just wanting to get to the problem already.

To his surprise, it was like Deaton read his mind. "So, Lydia," his eyes shifted to the strawberry-blonde. "About this banshee scream of yours…honestly, I've never heard anything like this happening. But I can see if I can find out. I just need to borrow Stiles' room."

Lydia nodded in understanding as she shared a knowing glance with Scott. He answered quickly, knowing just what to do. "I can ask my mom if we could all be in there alone. Exactly…how long do you think we need?"

Deaton gave a hesitant glance as he looked at the floor for a few seconds. "Most likely, judging by the fact of having this banshee scream a call, I'll have to say…hours."

TW-TW-TW-TW

It only took minutes for them all to get the room for themselves, thanks to Melissa. She had said that she'll try her best to buy them some time while Deaton did his work on Stiles. John became to feel hesitant and unsure of all this. Instead he would shrink back and listen to Deaton explain things to them, once in a while taking glances of Stiles lying motionless in the bed.

Stiles no longer had the breathing tube in his mouth but was instead replaced with a cannula around his nose since he could breathe on his own. But he still didn't change much.

He seemed to be too in contact with Stiles that he just now noticed that Deaton took a seat in one of the chairs by Stiles' bedside to examine him closer. He grabbed Stiles hand and closed his eyes, which made John feel awkward. "What is he doing?"

Scott had his arms crossed but didn't give John eye contact when he spoke. "I don't know." John observed Scott's expression closely, which to his surprise wasn't with worry. It was more of confusion and wonder. Lydia shared the same look as him as she sat in the other chair.

It was minutes that Deaton had been doing this. And John was growing impatient. Instead, he tried his best not to show it. He paced the room slowly back and forth as brief images of the memory a few hours ago of watching Stiles flat-line.

He could see now what Stiles went through to watch Claudia die right in front of him. And he wasn't there. He gritted his teeth in hatred of himself for not noticing all of this until now.

"You okay, Sheriff?"

John stopped in his tracks from the pacing and turned to look towards Lydia who had spoken to him. He rubbed a hand atop of his head, roughly pushing his hair back, most likely making it stick up in all ends. "Yeah." He was taken to surprise at how soft and cracked his voice sounded. "It's just…," He sighed, crossing his arms, trying his best to find the words. "Watching your only child flat-line in front of you…not such a great feeling."

Scott closed his eyes in empathy as he looked down to the floor. "He's alive, Sheriff. Remember that."

John nodded but didn't reply back to Scott's statement. "Scott? Did Stiles ever tell you about the night his mother died?" he regretted talking to a teenager about this, but he somehow couldn't stop himself.

Scott was hesitant before answering. "No. He, uh…he never wanted to talk about that night specifically. He told me, the pain of sharing it was too much."

John sighed and slid to the floor, his back leaning up against the back wall of the room. He knew they were too young to be hearing this story. But he had to let it out somehow. "The night my wife died, it was the end of my shift. A call came in. There's been a pile up and a young woman-she was a _teenager_. She was trapped under her car and she knew she was going to die. But it just kept telling her, 'no. It's…the paramedics are on their way'. And I remember her…her hand suddenly gripped my hand so tight and I…," he stopped for a second to clear a small lump in his throat. "I really thought she was going to break the bones."

Lydia closed her eyes in empathy as she and Scott listened further. She felt her own eyes begin to water as John continued, "And she looked me in the eyes and said, 'If you want to be with her…go now.'. And I knew she was talking about my wife."

Scott slowly edged his way towards John and slid to the floor next to him. But John kept speaking, "Within that other part of my brain…the part that looks for clues, for fingerprints, for logical connections, that part told me there is no way that this girl could possibly know about Claudia. And so I stayed. I stayed until the paramedics pulled her out. Until her heart stopped beating. And they declared she was dead."

Lydia let a single tear fall when he spoke about the girl. Scott's eyebrows furrowed in concern and sorrow. "When I finally got to the hospital," John stopped for a brief moment to let a few tears fall freely. "I saw Stiles sitting in the waiting room; his head in his hands. He was with Claudia when she died….and I wasn't."

Scott couldn't stop a single tear from streaming down his cheek. Stiles had never told him this. And he knew why now.

"I wasn't with him because I didn't believe. I just. Did. Not. _Believe_."

Scott thumped his head lightly against the wall he was leaning against and met his eyes with John. John couldn't help but a small choked sob escaped from his lips. He stopped short though, determining himself not to break down in front of the two teens.

Lydia bit the inside of her cheek as she let two more tears fall before quickly wiping them away with her hands. She couldn't imagine how a hyperactive teenager like Stiles to go through so much. But having your mother die in front of you, that's what got her heartbroken.

"When he flat-lined…," John gritted his teeth to keep in the sob. "I swear I must've screamed the most out of the top of my lungs because I thought….I thought I lost him. _Again_." He made a slight hiccup and his voice quivered when he spoke those words. "And one of my last words to him before he was in the accident, was that 'he killed her'. And I-I don't think I can live with myself anymore."

Scott wanted to hug him. To tell him that he shouldn't be thinking about this. But he didn't know how to put it in words.

"I appreciate you Scott." John said as he finally met Scott's gaze. "You were always there for Stiles no matter what. But I would always work late shifts, come home sometime in the morning when Stiles would already be asleep. And now I realize…that I've barely been there for him. But _you_ have. And I thank you for that Scott. Now I'll probably never get to hold my son anymore-,"

"That's why Deaton's here Sheriff." Lydia cut him off but she spoke softly. "And stop talking like this, okay? The past doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done. Stop trying to shrink in on yourself. Because if Stiles was awake right now, I know he'll be telling you the same exact thing. You keep on moving forward. Forget about your past. Because none of it matters anymore. None of it."

Scott put a light hand on John's shoulder. "She's right, Sheriff." Lydia was the smart one after all. Stiles seemed to be right.

It was then that Deaton had opened his eyes and slowly let go of Stiles' hand. His gaze turned to the three of them and noticed the puffy eyes coming from the Sheriff, but he didn't question it. "I've seen to have found the problem."

John and Scott stood up on their legs quickly as Lydia sat up right in her seat. "What is it?" John asked urging. He just hoped it was good news.

Deaton's expression was hesitant. "Stiles seems to be trapped in his own thoughts. Erratically speaking, that Lydia's banshee scream has seemed to open a chamber to his mind."

Lydia's eyes widened in bewilderment. "But I don't understand. How could my scream have helped him?"

"It appears that you and Stiles have a…connection. Allowing you to bring him back to the living. It seems that your scream has been quite helpful to my conclusions."

Lydia shook her head, not quite understanding yet. "How…is there anything we can do to get him out?"

Deaton sighed as he glanced at all three of them. "There is. And Lydia must go inside his mind to get him out."

* * *

><p><em>Hey guys! I'm really sorry for the late update. But yeah I know, I always leave cliffhangers at the end of my chapters. So...yeah. Also the part where the Sheriff was talking about the night Claudia died was from 3x11 or 3x12, I really don't remember. But I just thought, 'hey. let's add these quotes to my story' which I honestly think are very important to me! Anyways, I'll update sooner now. See ya soon :)<em>


End file.
